After the Storm (All I've Ever Needed) (9 page)

He’d called her, “a cold, unfeeling bitch” and hung up.

He’d never called her again.

It had been a unpleasant reminder of a period in her life she’d wanted to forget, but it had made her finally see Michael for what he was—a victim, but also a weak man who was looking for someone weaker to victimize so that he could feel good about himself.

***

Deciding with her head that she would accept a non-exclusive relationship with Stephano was easy, convincing her heart that something was better than nothing was much more difficult.
 
And Natalie couldn’t help but wonder if he had been relieved when she’d said that she didn’t want to take the relationship any further—he hadn’t attempted to persuade her otherwise and they had returned to just being work colleagues.
 
But the companionable friendship they had enjoyed was now ruined.
 
And though Natalie made an effort to forget the heated passion they’d shared, memories assailed her as soon as she walked into the office, and got even stronger when she was seated at her desk.

She hadn’t looked for to a Valentine’s Day since Michael.
 
This year was no different.

Stephano came to work, issued his usual morning greeting and settled behind his desk without acknowledging the significance of the day in any way.
 
Natalie was relieved that she had a lunchtime meeting with a client, so she wouldn’t be there for him to
not
ask her out to lunch.
 
The meeting was likely to extend to late afternoon based on previous meetings, so she would avoid seeing Stephano for most of the day.

When she arrived back at the office at quarter to four, she found a single, perfect red rose in a slender glass vase and a monstrously large box with the Hotel Chocolat logo on her desk.

She tried not to smile too broadly, but she couldn’t help herself grinning like a fool as she looked over at Stephano and mouthed, “Thank you.”

It was totally over the top.

She had fallen in love with the luxury chocolate range on her first trip to the new Westfield Shopping Centre in Stratford when she’d wandered into the shop and been offered a sample.
 
She had immediately treated herself to their Dark Signature Collection.

On her twenty-fifth birthday less than a month ago, she had brought the larger Classic Signature Collection to the office to share.
 
She had ended up eating most of it herself over the next days as the guys had each taken one or two and then forgotten about them.

This monstrosity was the Signature Cabinet—the largest collection they had available and so expensive she’d assumed no one ever bought one.

 
“New man, Natalie?”
 
Morgan perched his slender butt on her desk and turned over the card attached to the box to have a look at the inscription.

“None of your business, Morgan!”
 
She smacked his hand playfully.
 
It didn’t matter if he read the card.
 
It simply said, ‘I’m yours.
 
Be mine.’

Morgan laughed as he made himself more comfortable on her desk.
 
“Hotel Chocolat.
 
Hmm, he must be loaded or very in love.
 
Which is it?”

“Morgan, get off my desk and let me get some work done!”

He was blocking her view of Stephano and she really needed to transcribe the minutes of her meeting and make some further notes while the ideas were fresh in her head.

“Be like that, then.”
 
Morgan walked off in a huff, pretending to be hurt. “I won’t tell you what my new boyfriend got me for Valentine’s.”

“Too late!
 
You told me he got you premium tickets for Billy Elliot,” she reminded him.

“Me and my big mouth!”
 
Morgan covered his mouth as if to recall his earlier words and then laughed at the futility of the action.

He sat down when he got to his desk and got straight back into whatever he’d been doing.
 
He could be playful at times but was one of the hardest workers on the team.

***

Finally they were alone in the office and Stephano came over to her desk.

“Are you insane?” she asked him.
 
“It will take me a year to finish those chocolates!”

“A year?”
 
He raised his left eyebrow questioningly, in the sexy way he did sometimes and her insides quivered.
 
“I know how much you love those chocolates.”

“You’re so unflattering!” she accused, but burst out laughing because he was right.
 
She could easily go through the entire box in less than a month if she didn’t impose some restrictions on herself.

“Are you free on Saturday?”

His question immediately killed her laughter.

Saturday.
 
Not tonight.

It felt like déjà vu.

Was he taking the other woman out tonight?

“That depends...” she began hesitantly.
 
The expensive box of chocolate indicated that he didn’t think that she was just a cheap fling, but like her he earned a yearly six-figure salary plus bonuses.
 
The box of chocolate, though it cost more than it did to feed an average family of six easily for a week, wouldn’t have made a serious dent in his bank account.

“I’d like to take you for dinner at Sukho.
 
I’ve heard the food there is great.
 
It’s in your area, so you won’t be too far from home.”

She’d also heard good things about the Thai restaurant on Fulham Road and had been contemplating a takeaway order if she couldn’t convince her brother and his fiancée to let her treat them to dinner one evening soon.

“As friends,” he added when she didn’t give him an immediate response.

“Okay,” she agreed.

Stephano smiled and somehow she felt that she had agreed to far more than a meal between friends.

The rest of the week flew by.
 
Stephano was out of the office on Thursday and Friday.
 
He and another three members of the team went to Cadbury’s Head Office in Uxbridge for a series of meetings with top officials.
 
The US company, Kraft, had taken over the privately-owned UK business company two years ago and was embarking on a charm offensive to woo the British public.

***

Natalie peered through a slit in her heavy blinds and watched Stephano as he double checked that he had the right address before opening her gate.
 
He sent a questioning glance at the iron-grey 6 Series Convertible parked in her driveway.
 
It wasn’t a typical ladies’ color and even the BMW dealer had been surprised at her eventual choice, but she loved her car.

She pulled back as Stephano covered the walkway with his quick, purposeful stride.
 
She really needed to stop peeping through windows at him.
 
She was behaving like a peeping Tom, or the female equivalent, but she couldn’t help herself.
 
She loved to
 
watch him walk.
 
He had such a confident, sexy walk—his hips moving in a manly rhythmic way that made her insides quiver.

She stood at the door for a few moments after he pressed the buzzer before she opened it, trying not to appear too eager.
 
His eyes swept over her hair, which she’d had curled for a change, lingered briefly on her cleavage which she was showing to maximum effect in a red sheath dress with spaghetti-thin straps.
 
The dress was simple and would be unremarkable on a shapeless woman, but it followed Natalie’s curves lovingly, dipping in at her tiny waist and hugging her full hips and thighs.

“Come in for a moment,” she invited.
 
“I’ll just get my wrap.”

She heard Stephano’s muffled gasp as he caught a view of her from the back.
 
She smiled to herself as she reached into her small cloakroom for the soft black wrap which complimented her shoes and bag.
 
Earlier she’d tried red accessories and found the ensemble too bold, too in-your-face sexy.
 
Black added sophistication and subtly muted the vibrant color of the dress.

With a twist of her wrists she settled the wrap over her shoulders and turned to face Stephano.
 
He was looking around her tidy living room, but she sensed that he’d looked away a split second before she’d turned.

“Nice place,” he complimented.

“Thank you.”
 
She was proud of her house.
 
Decorating was her only hobby apart from reading and she had done most of the work herself.

He placed his hand at the back of her waist as she preceded him through her front door and towards his car.

“I need to buy myself somewhere soon,” he said, envy tingeing his voice.
 
“I can’t keep living with my parents.
 
It’s becoming embarrassing.”

“Wouldn’t you miss living at home and having your mother pamper you?” she teased as she adjusted the seat belt across her chest.

“I did miss home when I shared a flat with three other students during my first year at King’s College.
 
They were dirty and noisy and life was an endless party.
 
I don’t know how they got any
 
work done.
 
I spent most of the time back at home, so I didn’t renew my contract for a second year.”
 
Stephano laughed.
 
“But maybe I should have used the opportunity to make a run for it.
 
My mother behaves as though I’m divorcing her every time I mention buying my own home.”

“I wanted to stay at home when I went to university, but my mother insisted that I needed to be more independent.”
 
She said the words lightly; he could have no idea of how traumatic leaving home had been.

“My mother probably wouldn’t blink an eye if I told her I was getting married tomorrow and moving my wife into the house.”

Natalie laughed at the image.

“I’m sure she would put her foot down if you tried!”

“You don’t know my mother.” Stephano continued solemnly, “Take my advice: never have an Italian mama.”

“Okay,” she agreed equally seriously and then they both burst out laughing at the absurdity.

“Would she be okay if she knew that we were…” Natalie let the sentence tapered off.
 
They were what?
 
Friends?
 
Lovers?

“She would be fine.”
 
Stephano sounded confident.

“Are you sure?”
 
She didn’t want him to think that she was accusing his mother of being prejudiced, but Natalie needed to know why he was so certain his mother would be fine with the two of them having a relationship.

“Her best friend Shirley’s Jamaican.
 
And you met my mother on my birthday,
cara
.
 
Did she treat you any differently to the guys?”

“No,” she conceded.
 
If anything his mother had gone out of her way to ensure that she was well looked after.

Natalie had almost not gone to the birthday celebration.

He had announced the first Monday in December, “Guys, my ma’s inviting you all for dinner at the restaurant for my birthday on Friday 16
^th
so don’t make any plans.”

Assumed she wasn’t invited, Natalie had come to work early that morning and logged off her PC an hour earlier than usual at five, not wanting to be there when the last of the group left at six to join the others at the pub and then to the restaurant.
 
The humiliation would have been too much to bear.
 
She had grabbed her bag and was reaching for her jacket when Stephano asked, with something sounding very much like hurt in his voice, “Natalie, aren’t you coming to the restaurant?
 
My mother’s looking forward to meeting you.”